Five Times Jeannie Knew She & Matt Would Never Be
by tidbit2008
Summary: The title is pretty much self-explanatory. JMH.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my inspiration.  
**AN:** For 50scenes at LJ. Prompt 23 - Alone. Thanks a ton to Ash for all her help with this one.

The time line is _roughly_ like this - the first four are 5ish years pre-show during Matt and Danny's first run on the show, and the last one is 5 years after they returned (4 years after the finale).

* * *

I.

Unbeknownst to all, Jeannie stands from the balcony and watches the scene below unfold.

Harriet's crying and blubbering on about something. Jeannie can't quite understand the words but she doesn't really need to. She just watches – Matt rubbing Harriet's shoulders. Harriet quiets and his lips are moving, Jeannie's sure he's making all the appropriate soothing sounds, trying to calm Harriet down.

Suddenly, Harriet stands up as if patronized or outraged by his words and starts rushing angrier words in his direction. Jeannie can see Matt's temper rising even from so far away. Suddenly they're shouting, and she doesn't have to wonder what the fuss is all about anymore.

"_'You'll find someone new'_ that's all you can say?"

"I just meant that the world didn't end because Mr. Perfect broke up with you!"

"And how would you know? I hear you and Jeannie are still going 'strong'. What do you know about being alone?"

"I know plenty."

* * *

II.

Jeannie watches Harriet outside the door to Matt's office. Harriet's hesitating, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Seemingly having worked up her courage, Harriet opens the door and walks in, leaving it open.

Jeannie sees Matt getting up hurriedly and urging Harriet to sit in his chair. He pulls out some paper and sets it down in front of her.

He watches Harriet reading it and Jeannie can tell he's anxious. He leans down to point something out and _she_ continues reading. Harriet breaks into a smile and Jeannie can faintly hear, "This is really good, Matt."

Matt grins and starts speaking animatedly; Harriet's smiling and nodding. And he's got that look in his eyes - the one Jeannie never sees.

She was just going to confirm their dinner plans for later.

She got more than she bargained for.

Later when she sees Matt in the hallway whistling with a wistful, faraway look in his eyes, Jeannie knows it's not because they just confirmed dinner via email.

* * *

III.

They're just dancing. Jeannie shouldn't be this upset, should she? They're just _dancing_. How much harm can a dance or two do?

Except, he's looking at _her_ and his smile reaches his eyes. _She_'s laughing and she's looking at him like he's the only one in the room. He's twirling _her_ and holding her like she belongs to him. And _she'_s looking at him with a look that says she knows the hold she has on him.

And Jeannie has to walk away. She won't cry in front of all these people.

They're just dancing.

But it's the dance they keep doing.

* * *

IV.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" She says it, knowing she's right before the words leave her lips. But she has to ask. She has to. She needs to hear it from him.

He doesn't say anything, just hangs his head. She watches as he lifts up, running a hand through his hair. With a sigh, he looks at her.

And she waits. Maybe she's a masochist, but she waits. She's always waited. She's Jeannie. She's the back-up girl. She's the one he turns to when the world doesn't turn out right. When his heart is raw, reeling from the latest break-up, or when he's feeling guilty because he's crushed _her_ heart, that's when he comes to Jeannie. He comes to her hurt and confused, she puts the pieces back together and she hopes. She hopes that if she waits long enough, one day, he'll love her back.

She stares at him, willing him to say no, but she knows. She's always known.

He looks in her eyes and the answer comes before his reply.

"Yes."

* * *

V.

_Ten Years Later…_

Jeannie shakes her head and mumbles _déjà vu_ under her breath.

They're just dancing, but the scene is so familiar; yet, at the same time it's different from the dance she witnessed long ago. There's something there that wasn't before, something Jeannie can't quite put her finger on. It's got nothing to do with Harriet's white dress or Matt's tux. No, there's something else, too.

This dance is different. It's more sure of itself. The steps they're taking are no longer guesses, but more like a rhythm and routine well beat out, a comfortable familiarity. It's the dance of a lifetime, one filled with a history and a future.

Jeannie takes a seat and focuses on the champagne glass in front of her, choosing to watch the bubbles in it rise rather than Matt and Harriet take the first dance of the rest of their lives.

It just doesn't seem right, doesn't seem real. She knows that doesn't make any sense; she's had more than a decade of warning that this day was coming. She just never really thought it _would_ come. Somehow she had always held out hope that, against all odds, her one day would come. That Matt would tire of his and Harriet's games and realize Jeannie had been there all along. That day never came, though, which is evident by the ceremony that took place today.

In all honesty, she realizes that Matt and Harriet have both changed a lot over the last ten years. As the years passed Jeannie had heard less and less about their infamous shouting matches and the weeks where they ignored each other completely had diminished until they were gone altogether.

They've grown up before her eyes, yet she has all but stood still. Matt stopped coming to her after the day he admitted he was in love with Harriet. In her mind, she knows it was for the best. He never loved her. But someone forgot to tell her heart to stop missing him; to stop hoping.

Now here she sits, the final proof that she and Matt will never be is before her eyes. She wipes a tear away and gathers stock of her life. She's too old to do anything but guest roles and small supporting parts, the bulk of her career spent on a sketch-show; no one takes her seriously enough for anything else. All she has left is an empty apartment to go home to and a faded picture on her fridge.

_fin._


End file.
